


TBA

by angelica_church_schuyler



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Gen, M/M, band au motherfuckers!!, basically just don't think about the release dates of these songs lmao, get ready for some cheesy shit, piano gob, this is set in the early 90s but it's mainly 80s stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-12-07 08:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18232562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_church_schuyler/pseuds/angelica_church_schuyler
Summary: Gob couldn’t remember the first time he and his siblings had jammed together. But he distinctly remembers the first time they really clicked.It was severely disjointed, and in all honesty not very good. Michael didn’t know all of the chords, Lindsay didn’t know all of the words, and Buster was really just tapping his hand on the table.But, somehow, something worked.





	1. we can be us, just for one day

Gob couldn’t remember the first time he and his siblings had jammed together. But he distinctly remembers the first time they really clicked.  
He remembers being 13 and sitting at his piano, absentmindedly plodding out the first few chords to a song he knew by heart. He remembers Buster beginning to tap his hands on the coffee table in time to the beat. He remembers hearing Lindsay start to sing, her voice soft and sweet.

_[“I, I will be king, And you, you will be queen…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEqSOst1dg8</a) _ [](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEqSOst1dg8</a)

He saw Michael out of the corner of his eye, leaving the room and coming back a minute later with his guitar, slinging it over his shoulder and beginning to play along.

_“We’re nothing, and nothing will help us,  
Maybe we’re lying, then you better not stay...”_

It was severely disjointed, and in all honesty not very good. Michael didn’t know all of the chords, Lindsay didn’t know all of the words, and Buster was really just tapping his hand on the table.  
But, somehow, something worked.

_“But we could be safer, just for one day…  
Just for one day…”_

* * *

Since that day, the Bluths had kept playing together. Gob bought a keyboard and a synthesiser, Michael upgraded his old acoustic guitar to electric, Lindsay’s voice got stronger the more she sang, and Buster bought and learned to play an actual drum set rather than just a coffee table. They still hadn’t actually come up with a name for their band yet (they usually just called themselves “The Band”), but it was in the works. Michael and Lindsay had recently started college, and even Gob had gone on to higher education (studying music, of course). And finally, they had decided that this year they were finally going to do a real, professional gig: The Newport Beach Battle Of The Bands 1991.

Oh, and also, Buster _lost a hand._

This was a fairly recent development, and a very unexpected one.  
Gob had known since he was a kid that living near the ocean came with the danger of attacks from sharks or jellyfish or tourists, but he’d really never thought about seal attacks until one had claimed his brother’s limb.  
And obviously he was worried Buster’s, like, health and shit, but his first guilty thought had been of their band. How the fuck were they supposed to win the Battle of the Bands if Buster had _LOST HIS FUCKING HAND?_

When Gob had gone to visit Buster in the hospital the day after the attack, Buster had seemed...weirdly okay. He joked about the stump where his hand used to be, waving it around while Gob tried not to throw up.  
“It seems kinda bad now,” he’d admitted. “But by Battle of the Bands time, I’ll be good as new!”  
Gob wasn’t sure whether he was in shock or just very, _very_ high on painkillers, but at least the visit had made Gob less guilty about his first priority because it seemed to be Buster’s too. 

And evidently, it was also pretty high on Michael and Lindsay’s lists. As soon as Buster had come home from the hospital, a doped up smile on his face and a hooked prosthesis on his arm, Michael had called a band meeting for the three of them who still had four limbs. And here they all were, sombrely sitting around the UC Irvine rehearsal space they reserved twice a week, too nervous to say anything that would make their situation real. 

Lindsay was the first to speak. “You know, of all the things I would’ve expected to break up the band, a seal attack wasn’t one of them.”  
Michael nodded in agreement. “I always thought you’d break away and start a solo career or Gob would die or something. This is...completely insane.”  
“You expected me to die?”  
“Wait, do you guys actually think we’re gonna break up over this?” Michael continued, showing no indication that he had heard Gob’s question.  
“What do you mean?” Lindsay asked. “We don’t have a drummer anymore, Michael. The drums are kind of a big deal.”  
“You expected me to _die?”_

Michael ignored his brother yet again, standing up and beginning to pace around the room. He made his way to the drum risers, tracing his finger gently around the hi-hats on Buster’s drums. “Well...I know it seems kind of heartless to replace Bustie, especially this soon, but...we do have the Battle of the Bands coming up. And that’s big, guys.”  
“Okay, two things,” Gob stood up. “One, I’m not gonna be the first one to die, Buster is. Two, playing without Buster...wouldn’t that just feel… _wrong_ to you guys? Actually, I lied, it’s not two things, it’s three. _Three,_ how do we play without a drummer?”  
Michael picked up his pacing again. “I never said we’d play without a drummer. I actually specifically said the word _replace,_ Gob, so if you ever actually listened to me you’d-”  
“We can’t replace our _brother,_ Michael!” Lindsay stood up now too. “We’re a _family band._ There's no one who _could_ replace him! We’ve run out of siblings.”  
“Who said we could only have family? I never said that!”  
“You implied it.”  
“Linds, I - look, I don’t like it any more than you do. But it’s that...or it’s the end for us. And I...I really don’t want that.”  
If Gob didn’t know any better, he’d say that Michael was getting emotional. Of course, that was impossible seeing as Michael was a robot. But Lindsay, who was human, was definitely getting emotional. Gob saw her wiping a tear from her eye.  
“Maybe we should sleep on it,” Gob said. “It’s a big decision. We can’t be expected to make it this quickly.”  
Michael stared at Gob for a second. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think you might be...you might have a point. Same time same place tomorrow, okay?” While Gob was sleeping on it, Michael designed audition posters, confident that his siblings would come around. He knew Lindsay would. She always did. And once it was two against one, Gob would come around too. 

* * *

He didn’t. 

Michael attempted to be as diplomatic as possible, which was difficult when your brother was...well, Gob.  
“Majority rules, Gob! I’m sorry, man, but me and Lindsay both agree.”  
“Wow. Wow, so should the guy with the $3000 piano just-just...shou-sh-should... the piano guy should just, what, leave-le-just get out?” Gob stuttered.  
“I’m not saying you should _leave,_ Gob, I’m just _saying-”_  
Michael was interrupted by loud, ear-piercing feedback. “What the fu-”  
“I think you should leave,” Lindsay said, leaning in far too close to the microphone she’d used to get her brothers’ attention. “If you’re not with us, you’re against us, right Mikey?”  
Mikey stared.  
“Besides,” Lindsay continued. “What rock band has a _pianist?”_  
“Queen?”  
“Shut up, Gob. The point is, we can replace you just as easily as we can replace Buster. You’re either in or you’re out. Your choice.” 

Michael switched off Lindsay’s microphone as Gob groaned, dramatically flopping onto his piano bench. “Fine.”  
Lindsay beamed. “Great! Michael, I assume you’ve already made posters?”  
“Well...yeah, maybe.”  
“Nerd.” 

* * *

_____ _

## BAND AUDITIONS

#### DRUMMER NEEDED

##### Are you a drummer who wants to be part of an up-and-coming rock band? Our band’s profile is slowly rising and due to recent uncontrollable circumstances we are in need of a new drummer. Our band name is currently TBA. If you are interested, please contact Michael Bluth on 555-2527866 Auditions will be held at UC Irvine in rehearsal room LA14 at 1 pm, Saturday the 26th of May.


	2. in the web that is my own, i begin again

Audition day rolled around far too quickly for Gob. He hadn’t wanted to do this in the first place, and now he was being forced to wake up early on a Saturday so that he could watch a bunch of terrible drummers attempt to replace his brother.  
Said brother, by the way, still had no idea he was being replaced. Gob and Lindsay had both called dibs on not telling him so the task was left to Michael, who didn’t have the balls to tell him yet.  
“What if,” Michael said in his I-have-an-idea-and-you’re-not-gonna-like-it-but-I’ll-make-you-do-it-anyway voice. “We all tell him together?”  
“So he can impale all three of us on his hook? No thanks!”  
“Lindsay’s right, the kid’s dangerous,” said Gob. He’d never been a fan of one-handed people, and if Peter Pan had taught him anything it was to never trust a man with a hook.  
“We have to tell him at some point!”  
“No, _you_ have to tell him at some point. Me and Gob both called dibs.”  
Michael rolled his eyes. “I have to do everything in this family.”

That statement, at least in Gob’s eyes, was blatantly untrue. Sure, Michael might be risking a scratch or two by breaking the news to Buster, but Gob had to _wake up before noon!_ Gob made so many sacrifices for his band and yet no one ever acknowledged them. It could be seriously disheartening sometimes.

Speaking of disheartening, the auditions were fucking miserable. Gob was forced to sit and listen as a kid who looked no older than Buster completely butchered the drum solo from _[Keep Yourself Alive.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PfzORpgStQg)_ Michael (stupid, homophobic _Michael)_ wouldn't even let him dropkick the kid. It was so unfair.  
There were a surprising amount of bad Queen covers. And bad Duran Duran covers. And way too many people doing Africa by Toto.

One auditionee came in with only a woodblock. He refused to play the drums, insisting that all a band really needed was a woodblock. Maybe a metronome. Michael told him they'd “be in touch” before he even played the stupid thing. 

“How did so many people miss the word ‘drummer’? It was right there!” Lindsay complained. They seemed to be out of hopefuls, and they’d only actually auditioned four drummers. There was the woodblock guy, two singers, one bassist, and even an upbeat redheaded girl who'd insisted that every band needed bagpipes. The siblings had vehemently disagreed.

Michael sighed. “That _Keep Yourself Alive_ kid wasn't...terrible.”  
Lindsay disagreed. “Ugh, no offence but you’re an idiot.”  
Gob nodded. “That was...utterly macabre.”  
“Wow, those are big words.”  
“Thank you.”  
Michael tapped his pencil on their desk. “So...what do we do?”  
Lindsay sighed. “I don't know what we expected.”  
Michael nodded slowly.  
As Gob began to speak, the door burst open, revealing a very short, very out of breath person.

“Am I too late?” the hyperventilating man said.  
His height was the first thing Gob noticed about him. Gob considered most people short, but even he could see that this kid was actually short. He appeared to be about Gob’s age, and he had short spiky black hair. He seemed to be wearing eyeliner, but the sweat running down his face had made it run slightly. Ew.

Michael smiled. “No, no, you’re not too late. What’s your name?”  
“Tony Wonder.”  
“Okay, cool, cool,” Michael jotted down something on his notebook as Tony made his way over to the drums.  
“I love your band name, by the way,” he said.  
Lindsay frowned. “We don’t have a band name yet.”  
Tony blinked in surprise. “But the flyer said TBA.”  
“TBA as in _To Be Announced,”_ Gob chuckled. This guy wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. “Because we are going to _announce_ when we come up with it. Duh.”  
"Oh, okay. It sounds pretty cool. You should keep it."  
Michael looked like he was thinking, which was never a good thing, as Tony began fiddling with the drum kit.  
“What are you doing?” Lindsay asked.  
“Huh? Oh, I’m just tuning the drums. Have other people really been playing these out of tune all day?”  
Gob leaned in towards Lindsay. “You can tune drums?” he whispered.  
“Apparently,” she shrugged.  
Michael cleared his throat and shot his siblings a look. “Okay, Tony,” he announced. “You can go whenever you’re ready.”  
Tony smiled as Gob prepared himself for more horrors. He missed Buster.

At least, he did until Tony launched into of the drum solo from ____[In The Air Tonight.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MN3x-kAbgFU</a)

Gob could see Michael straighten up. Glancing at Lindsay, he saw that her eyes had lit up.  
And, even though Gob was still opposed to the idea of replacing Buster in the first place...he had to admit that the guy was pretty good.

Tony finished and looked expectantly at the siblings. Michael, obviously trying to remain as professional as possible even though he was visibly vibrating, simply said: “We’ll be in touch.”  
Tony smiled and left with a small wave. Gob waved back, attempting to put as much contempt as possible into the gesture. Somehow. It was difficult to wave angrily.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lindsay started to squeal. Like actual squealing. Out loud.  
“Oh my god!” she said shrilly. He was so _good!I_ We’re going with him, right?”  
Michael looked down at his notes. “Honestly, I think he’s our only real option. He was definitely the best.”  
“I don’t know,” said Gob. “Who says we even need a drummer? Drum machines exist.”  
Michael sighed. He was good at sighing, and at projecting huge levels of disappointed into those sighs. “We just do, Gob. You don’t think he was good?”  
“No, he was great!”  
“Then what do you have against him? Really, I’m curious.”  
“Nothing, I just…” Truthfully, Gob had no real idea. He just had a weird feeling about the guy. Something in his gut was screaming at him, and...oh, actually, no, that bit was hunger. He’d missed lunch. But he did have strong feelings toward the guy. Whether they were positive or not, he wasn’t sure.

Lindsay raised her hand to get Michael’s attention. “I feel bad formally inviting anyone to join without Bustie knowing.”  
Gob had to agree. The poor kid was only 15. At this very moment, he was probably lying in his bed, waving that disgusting stump around, still under the naive impression that he would get to play with them, not fully comprehending that he was an amputee. Gob knew he wouldn’t have been able to cope with all of that at Buster’s age.  
“You’re right,” Michael said. “Maybe we should go by the penthouse later and talk to him.”  
Lindsay nodded. “And then we’ll replace him.”  
“Then we’ll replace him.”

* * *

Buster was not in his bed like Gob had expected.

He was sitting in an armchair which had been pushed up against the window, staring past the penthouse at the ocean. Gob would’ve thought that he’d never wanna see the ocean again. He knew he wouldn’t.

Lindsay was the first to speak. “Hi, Buster.”  
Their little brother jumped and turned to face them. “Oh, it’s you guys. Heyyy, brothers and sister.” He waved his stump and Gob felt nauseous.  
The three older siblings sat around the living room while Buster looked back out of the window. “Mom won’t let me on the balcony,” he explained.  
“Right.” Michael looked around. “So...listen, buddy, we wanted to talk to you about something…”  
“I’m never gonna be able to play again, am I?” Buster asked.  
The three older ones simply stared at him.  
“You don’t have to answer, I know I’m not. So are you gonna replace me?”  
Michael looked wildly between Gob and Lindsay, his jaw hanging open. Gob had no idea what to say.  
“Sweetie, if you don’t want us to, we won’t,” Lindsay said gently.  
Buster shrugged. “If you wanna go to the Battle of the Bands, you need a drummer. My hand’s not just gonna grow back in the next few months.” He giggled. “Or at all. And my prosthetic is gonna take ages to get here, and even with that I probably won’t be able to hold a drumstick.” He was still laughing. “Isn’t it weird? It’s like a replacement hand! Like a hip replacement except it’s a _hand?_ A 15-year-old getting a hand replacement. Weird.”  
Gob had to agree.

Buster’s laughter trailed off as he looked down at his hands - or his hand - on his lap. 

Gob spoke up for the first time since they’d gotten there. “No one’s ever gonna be as good as you, kid.”  
Buster smiled slightly, not looking away from his hand. “You know what’s really weird?”  
“What?”  
The giggling started up again. “I can still feel it.”

* * *

Gob, Michael, and Lindsay didn’t say a word for the entire car ride back to the twins’ place. None of them knew what to say. Gob didn’t know what the other two were feeling, but he imagined it was something similar to his serious sense of guilt.  
As usual, Michael spoke up. “Are we...I mean, do you guys think we’re, like, betraying our disabled brother?”  
After a second of silence, Lindsay replied, “No. I mean, he didn’t say he was opposed to being replaced.”  
“He seems pretty messed up about the whole thing,” Gob said.  
“Yeah, I would be too,” Lindsay agreed.  
They fell silent. Lindsay poured himself a drink while Gob started preparing some parmesan and mustard.  
“So,” Michael broke the silence. “Should I call that Tony guy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!  
> it's not actually mentioned in the chapter but the title of this chapter is from Edge Of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks and it's a motherfucking banger  
> anyway, hope you liked this chapter!! i hope to have the next one up within the week. thank you so much for reading xx


	3. wind me up and let me play

Michael was going to kill his brother.  
Not Buster. God knows Buster already has enough on his plate. He was going to kill Gob.  
To be totally frank, Gob had developed a new attitude. A very, very bad attitude, and it was going to cost them everything if he didn’t get it in check.  
They’d been rehearsing as often as they could in preparation for the Battle. They still didn’t have a set list, so they’d decided to just rehearse every song in their repertoire and figure out which ones showed them off best. This also involved making sure Tony knew them and could play them as well as Buster could, learning Tony’s style, and figuring out how he fit in with the rest of them. 

Since they’d found Tony, every rehearsal had been a fucking disaster. Even though the two of them were, in Michael’s eyes, weirdly similar, Gob just couldn’t get along with the guy. Well, “couldn’t” was the wrong word. Gob flat out _refused_ to get along with him.  
During their most recent rehearsal, they’d been doing [one of the many, _many_ Queen songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17x989t-a0Y) Gob had forced them to learn over the years when - in the middle of Michael’s guitar solo - Gob had pulled the plug on his amp.  
“Gob, what the fuck?”  
Gob had whirled around and pointed at Tony. “You keep slowing down!”  
“What? No, I don’t!”  
“Yes you do! You’re a fucking _drummer_ who can’t _fucking_ keep time! I can’t believe you!”  
“Maybe you were rushing!”  
“I was not! Michael, tell him I wasn’t rushing!”  
To be honest, Michael hadn’t been paying much attention to either of them. They were both in the background for the part of the song, because -  
“It was my fucking solo, I wasn’t paying attention to you idiots! I was doing pretty well, too, until some dickhead pulled the plug on me!”

Lindsay checked out her nails as the boys fought. She really needed to get them done. The colour was starting to chip, and her cuticles looked awful. She made a mental note to go to the salon after rehearsal, assuming the boys hadn’t killed each other by then.

“God, Michael you’re such a typical guitarist! You only care about your own stuff, you don’t even give a shit about the rest of us!”  
“Of course I give a shit, I was just very focused on that particular solo because I struggle with it sometimes, you fucking douchebag!”

Lindsay probably needed a pedicure too, come to think of it. And maybe a haircut. She’d definitely have to get her hair done before the Battle. 

“Lindsay!” Tony called. “Make them stop yelling!”  
Lindsay sighed. “Shut up,” she said.  
Her brothers continued yelling.  
She shrugged. She did the best she could. 

Gob rolled his eyes. “Whatever, I’ve lost focus.”  
“Yes,” Michael nodded. “Can we get back to-”  
“The fact that this fucking loser can’t even keep time properly!”

“Okay,” Lindsay called over the renewed yelling. “I’m gonna go get a mani-pedi, see you guys!”

Michael groaned and packed up his stuff as fast as he could while Tony and Gob continued to scream at each other, before rushing to follow his sister.

Lindsay smiled as he rushed past her, not realising that she’d been waiting for him outside the door of the rehearsal room. She took out her watch to time how long it would take him to find her.  
After exactly 4 minutes and 35 seconds, he appeared in front of her, out of breath and panting.  
“I...hate...you.”

As the twins made their way to the mall, they discussed the disastrous rehearsal they’d just had.  
“Gob just won’t cooperate with him. It’s infuriating! What kind of band are we if we can’t even get along?”  
“A normal band,” Lindsay replied. “Look at Fleetwood Mac. Look at _Queen._ They hated each other’s guts sometimes, but they made some amazing music.”  
“Yeah, I guess. It’s just annoying.”  
“I know. But Gob’s just a drama queen, he’ll get over it eventually. Anyway, I wanna talk about me.”  
“Of course you do,” Michael chucked. “Go ahead.”  
“I wasn’t looking for permission, but I will. I think that in order to really prepare for the Battle of the Bands, we need to know who our competition is. So, I did some sleuthing and I found out who else is competing, and I think we should go and see them. Find out what we’re dealing with, you know?”  
“That’s...actually a really good idea.”  
“You sound way too surprised.”  
“No, I’m not, I’m just...it’s a good idea!”  
“You can’t believe you didn’t think of it?”  
“Yeah.”  
Lindsay laughed. It did sound like something Michael would think of. “So, here’s what I think we do: we let the others finish fighting for today, that should take about an hour. While we wait, I’ll get a mani-pedi, you go to Cinnabon - and DO NOT forget to buy me something - and then after we’ll get the others and put together Operation Scope-Out-The-Competish.”

* * *

Operation-Scope-Out-The-Competish turned out to be way easier than they’d anticipated. Michael had decided that they should check out only the bands most likely to be a threat to them.  
Which only ended up being one band.

The three siblings and Tony headed out that night to some nightclub downtown, decked out in all-black and wearing hats and sunglasses (Tony had insisted on the outfits because they were “undercover”. For once, Gob had agreed with him). A small sign outside the club’s door advertised tonight’s live entertainment (and TBA’s new arch-nemeses) Belle Du Jour.  
“What a dumb name,” Tony scoffed. “What does Belle Du Jour even _mean?”_  
“ _Beauty of the day,_ ” Lindsay answered. “It’s French.”  
“Just because it’s French doesn’t mean it’s not dumb,” said Gob.  
Michael just rolled his eyes. 

The siblings and Tony sat at the bar, trying to look inconspicuous. Michael thought they looked like they were trying to rob the place.  
Finally, the stage lights went up, and a sleazy looking guy grabbed a mike and introduced the band. (“He butchered the pronunciation,” whispered Lindsay.)

The crowd clapped politely. Three young women, around Michael and Lindsay’s age, entered the stage and Lindsay had to stop herself from screaming.  
Staring out at the crowd from behind the same microphone as the sleazy guy from before, with a red electric guitar slung across her shoulder, was the Devil herself.  
_Sally Sitwell._

Lindsay and Sally had hated each other since they were toddlers and Sally had won the Baby Miss Newport Pageant they’d both competed in. Ever since then, every part of their lives had been a competition against each other. Their looks, their grades, their love lives, the cheerleading squad, each was carried out with the express purpose of pissing the other off.  
Except for the band. Until now, at least.  
Gob groaned. He turned to Tony and began explaining who Sally was, before moving on to an explanation of who the drummer was.  
It took Lindsay a second before she recognised the girl on the drums as Eve Holt, a girl Gob had dated in high school before they’d both realised they were gay. She was a sweet girl, very religious, and Lindsay was actually pretty happy to see her. They’d gotten along pretty well.  
Michael was staring at the third girl on stage. He nudged his sister. “Hey, who’s the bassist?”  
Lindsay had been too focused on Sally and Eve to even notice that there was a bassist. She was a redhead, quite pretty, and vaguely familiar.  
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I feel like I’ve seen her before.”  
“Yeah, me too,” Michael said. He was still staring intently at her.

Back on stage, Sally looked back at Eve and nodded. Eve counted them in, and they launched into a cover of [one of Lindsay’s favourite songs of all time.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdOkQ6THDVw)

Lindsay was, quite frankly, horrified. Not only did they have the nerve to sing _her absolute favourite Heart song,_ they were singing it _well._ Sally had a great voice. Their harmonies were amazing. Their voices blended together perfectly.  
Lindsay wanted to cry.

She saw her own horror reflected on the faces of her bandmates for the rest of the set. The four of them sat at the bar, no doubt looking completely ridiculous in their stupid undercover outfits, just staring, slowly losing all hope.

After a horrible half hour, it was finally over, and the band convened to discuss what the fuck had just happened.  
“So,” said Tony. “They’re pretty good.”  
“Yup,” Michael agreed. “We’re fucked.”  
Lindsay nodded. Gob ordered another drink. They were really, truly fucked.

As if to remind them just how fucked they were, the girls of Belle Du Jour chose that exact moment to show up at the bar seemingly out of thin air.  
Sally smiled like a shark looking at a fish. “Lindsay! How great to see you!”  
Lindsay returned the grin. “You too! You’re looking...healthy.”  
Sally’s smile faltered slightly. Lindsay kept talking. “I didn’t know you were in a band. If I’d known, I would’ve come seen you earlier.”  
Sally flipped her hair. “Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to do that. God knows I’ve never come to see you.”  
The two girls were still smiling at each other. Michael couldn’t help but think they looked like two blonde Jokers grinning maniacally while plotting gruesome murder.  
Eve broke the tension. “So, Gob, who’s this?”  
“Oh, this is Tony, he’s our new drummer, I guess. Tony, this is Eve, she’s my ex-girlfriend but we’re both gay now.”  
Tony nodded. “Sweet.”  
“And that’s Sally Sitwell, our dads are rivals, and I don’t know the redhead.”  
Said redhead smiled. “I’m Tracey.”  
“YES!” screamed Michael. “I mean, you were-we...we had...you were in my year. In high school. I recognise you.”  
“Oh, yeah,” Lindsay said. “Were you in my home ec class freshman year?”  
“Umm, no, but we were had homeroom together. All four years.”  
“Right. That’s what I meant.”  
Tracey nodded. “Sure.”  
Eve turned back to Gob. “What happened to Buster?”  
“A loose seal.”  
“Oh, like your mom won’t let him play anymore?”  
“What? No, a seal bit off his hand.”  
_”What?”_  
“That’s what I said!”

Lindsay stood up. “We need to go. It was great seeing you, Sally.”  
“So nice seeing you, Linds.”  
“Don’t call me Linds.”  
And with that, she turned on her heels and began strutting towards the exit, obviously expecting her bandmates to follow after her.  
“Uhh, see ya, I guess,” Gob said to Eve.  
“Yeah, see ya.”  
Michael, who had been staring at Tracey that entire time, gave her a small wave. She waved back and he went bright red.  
Gob grabbed his brother by the shoulders and led him out of the club.

Tony sighed before following the siblings. If they were ever gonna beat _that,_ they’d need a lot more practice. Or a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from Back Chat by Queen  
> name of girl band stolen from Girltrash  
> inspiration and love given to me by my friends ily guys
> 
> hope you liked this chapter!! i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you're as excited as i am for what's in store x


	4. i don't care just what they say, 'cause forever i will pray

Michael decided that Belle Du Jour’s performance last night warranted further research. Sure, they had performed well that one night, but it could've been a fluke. Maybe they usually sucked and they just happened to be good that night. Plus, they knew a lot about Sally and Eve but nothing about this Tracey girl. Michael was gonna find out everything he could about this girl. Maybe even befriend her a little.  
For research. For the band. Obviously.

This time, he decided not to go in his undercover outfit, mainly because he realised it was completely unnecessary and Tony was just being dramatic. Michael used to think Lindsay was dramatic, but she was nothing next to Tony. Of course, neither of them could begin to measure up to Gob in terms of hysteria, but Tony was actually getting close. Buster had been much less dramatic than the others. But now, without him, Michael was left as the only rational human being in a band full of over the top drama queens. He was beginning to understand what it was like to be a manager.  
Although he imagined that managers didn’t usually get carded when they tried to buy alcohol. Other than that, though, total manager. He did everything for this band. And what did he get in return? Gob wouldn’t even let him steal his ID.

As he watched the same slightly creepy guy from last night take the stage to introduce your band, he started to think that maybe being sober could actually be good in this circumstance. He could take in as much information as possible about Tracey.  
And about the band. As a whole. All three girls, not just Tracey. Sally and...whats-her-name...Eve! Yeah, Eve too.

As much as he hated to admit it, Sally, Tracey, and the other one were just as good tonight as they had been last night. He was still so amazed by Tracey. She was insanely talented, like Paul McCartney, if Paul McCartney was a pretty redheaded American girl. Maybe because TBA didn’t have an official bassist so he wasn't desensitised to it yet, but bass guitar and bassists always seemed so cool. Gob would probably think that was such a boring way to say it, but there was no other way to describe it. The way she looked, the way she moved onstage, the way her fingers flitted across the strings...it was just _cool._ She was so talented and pretty and her hair was all shiny under the stage lights.  
Maybe hair-shininess would give them an advantage in the Battle of the Bands. He’d have to tell Lindsay. After all, that was why he was here. For the band.  
Everything was always for the band.

After the girls’ set, someone put on some generic dance music and Michael stared into his Diet Coke while some other bar patrons took to the dance floor. He was about to take off when someone tapped on the shoulder.

“Hey!” Tracey beamed. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”  
“Yeah,” Michael said. “What a coincidence.”  
“So random.”  
“Just by chance, wow...that’s so...remarkable and-and…”  
“Weird, right?”  
“Yeah, it’s so great, that we both just happened to be here.” Michael knew he looked nervous. Tracey almost seemed a little nervous too. Probably because Sally would be mad if she saw them. Was talking to each other, like, fraternising with the enemy or something? “I just, you know, I thought I’d check the place out...again...and you guys, I guess you just...happened to be here...again.”  
Tracey giggled. “Yeah, we’re, um, booked for three nights.”  
“Cool. Cool, cool, cool. So, uh, where’s Sally and…uh...”  
“Eve?”  
“Yes, Eve! I didn't forget her name.”  
"Right. Eve's got church tomorrow, so she had to leave early." Tracey looked over her shoulder. “And...look, I really shouldn’t be telling you this.”  
“You don’t have to.” _But please, please, PLEASE do._  
“It’s okay. I trust you.” Michael felt his heart flutter a little. “Sally’s got a throat infection. She’s been straining her voice a lot, she’s not even supposed to be singing right now. But she insisted, because of the Battle. Means a lot to her.”  
Michael nodded. He could understand that.  
Tracey’s eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, God. Oh, I really shouldn’t have told you that. You’re the competition! You could use this against us!”  
“I won’t! Promise!” Promises could be broken.  
“Do you swear on your mother's grave?”  
“Well, my mother is alive and I doubt that I'll be too choked up about it when she does croak, so I'll swear on...I don't know, John Lennon's grave. Oh no, he was a shitty person too. My own future grave?”  
Tracey nodded. “That works.”

She really was pretty. On stage, she was too far away for him to notice, but her eyes were a light brown. He wasn’t sure if they actually had little flecks of gold in them or if it was just the lights.  
“Seriously,” Tracey said. “If she finds out I told you she’ll kill me. Not figuratively either, she will actually murder me.”  
“I won’t,” Michael wanted to ask how the hell a girl as sweet and pretty and awesome as Tracey had ended up being a bandmate and a friend of a bitch like Sally Stickwell, but he wasn’t sure how to phrase it nicely. “How did you and Sally, of all people...I mean, not that, you know, I don’t...I just mean that, uhh, you guys...how did your band start?”  
“It’s okay, I know what you mean. I know she seems like a bitch, but she’s really not. She’s just competitive, you know? It’s the way she was raised.”  
Michael nodded. “Yeah, I can understand that.”  
“I thought she was just a bitch too and I guess I just really wanted to be in a band, you know? It’s pretty hard for a bassist to have a solo career. So when I saw she was looking for a female bassist I thought, why not? And now I know her better and she's actually a really great person.”  
“...sure. Did she remember you? From high school?”  
“God, no. I remembered her and Eve, and Eve remembered me, but Sally didn’t.” She paused. “I mean, you didn’t even remember me.”  
“Of course I-yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”  
Tracey shrugged. “I was quiet. I didn’t get involved in anything, I never won any awards or anything. I’m surprised Eve remembered me.”  
“Well, Eve is impossibly nice. It’s a little weird.”  
Tracey giggled. "Okay, yeah. She's, like, crazy sweet."  
Michael cleared his throat. “Maybe I could...buy you a drink, or something. To make up for high school.”  
Tracey smiled. “I'd like that.”  
Michael was beginning to love that smile.

* * *

Gob was late for rehearsals, as per fucking usual. If there was one thing Tony Wonder hated more than anything, it was lateness. Sure, he could be irresponsible and rash and stupid sometimes, but he was _never_ late, especially to something as important as rehearsals.  
Lindsay, it seemed, picked up on his annoyance. “He’ll be here,” she said reassuringly. “I know he’s late a lot, but he always gets here.”  
“I know, but would it kill him to be a little professional? It's like he doesn’t even care about this band.”  
“Of course he cares,” Michael piped up. Tony had almost forgotten he was there. He’d been a little later than he usually was, and had spent most of the time he had been there sitting in a corner, tuning his guitar and [strumming a tune that Tony didn't recognise.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPw5WiABUOA) “It’s just that professionalism isn’t exactly his thing. Honestly, I didn’t think it was yours, either.”  
Okay, maybe he had a point. _Most_ professionalism was boring and it was better to leave the boring stuff to Michael, but punctuality was another thing entirely. And Gob had to be late today, of all the days. Tony had had an idea, one that he thought was actually pretty good, and he was itching to tell the others.

If he was being honest with himself, Tony still didn’t really feel like he was a part of the band. He got along with Lindsay and Michael really well and he really liked them. All four of them sounded really good together and they meshed well. But he was always very, very aware of the fact that he was a replacement. And not just any replacement either, a replacement for their little brother who was recovering from a tragic accident. If something like that had happened to Tony’s little brother…  
Plus, the Bluths were siblings. They had a _lot_ of history between them. They knew each other crazy well. As Gob had said to him one day, “We’re in a band _and_ we’re siblings. We’ve puked on each other on a regular basis.” Which was a weird thing to tell him and Tony didn’t remember the context, but it was a valid point, even if it only served to make him feel like even more of an outsider. None of the others had ever puked on _him._

Lindsay sighed and began playing with the badge pinned to the lapel of her oversized denim jacket. She seemed bored rather than antsy. Michael, on the other hand, was off in his own world. The whole time Tony had known him (which, to be fair, was all of ten days) he’d never seen Michael unfocused, especially not during a rehearsal.

The door burst open and Gob yelled: “Hey, sorry we’re late!”  
He was never really sorry, of course. And he could never enter a room without making a scene. Tony never _got_ to make a scene when he entered a room, because _he_ was always on time, unlike _some people._  
Trailing behind Gob was an awkward-looking teenager. He was almost as tall as Gob and carried himself as if he’d just had a growth spurt and didn’t really know how to use his newly-long limbs. He wore a blue and white striped t-shirt, glasses taken straight off a nerd in a John Hughes movie, and a hook on his left hand.  
Tony guessed that he was probably Buster.  
“Heyyy, brother and sister...and new guy,” the kid said. He smiled at his siblings before turning towards Tony and glaring. Despite the fact that he was an awkward lanky kid, Tony felt a little intimidated.  
“Hey,” Lindsay smiled, hopping off the speaker she’d been sitting on. “I didn’t know you were coming.”  
“Yeah, well, I dropped in to grab something from Mom and Dad’s and I ended up talking to Buster and I thought ‘hey, why not bring him to rehearsal?’ and then we stopped for takeout and they ended up taking _so long_ and you were talking to Buster, weren’t you?”  
Lindsay nodded.  
“Gob said I should come,” Buster said. “He wanted me to meet _the replacement.”_  
“No, no-n-no-no, I didn’t say I _wanted_ you to meet him-”  
“Yes, you did. You said ‘Hey, Busty, you should come get a load of your _replacement.’”_ Buster paused, thinking. “Did you call him a diva too, or were you talking about Lindsay?”  
“Hey!” Lindsay put her hands on her hips, revealing the word 'DIVA' written across her shirt in bright pink, sparkly letters. “I am _not_ a diva!”  
“Then I guess he must have been talking about _you,_ drummer boy.”  
Michael stood up. “His name’s _Tony,_ and no one is a diva.”  
“Lindsay’s kind of a diva,” said Gob.  
Michael opened his mouth to reply but just shook his head. 

Buster leaned back against the wall. “Are you actually gonna rehearse? I wanna see how the non-family drummer boy measures up.”  
The Bluths had talked to him about Buster before, but none of them had mentioned that he was such a dick. Tony was kind of a dick at 15 too, but not this bad. And Gob had just let him into the rehearsal space and let him be all rude to Tony in front of the others…  
It had to be on purpose.  
Gob laughed and Tony whirled around to face him. “You know, whatever you’re doing, it’s not working!”  
“What?”  
“You’re obviously trying to get me kicked out! Bringing Buster here, letting him talk to me like that in front of Michael and Lindsay, you’re trying to pit me and Buster against each other, trying to-to remind them that I’m not family and I’m just some temporary replacement or something so I shouldn’t get to be here!”  
Gob actually looked...kind of hurt. “Dude, I know we don’t get along but...I’m not _that_ bad.”  
“Yeah,” Buster agreed. He didn’t seem to realise it, but his hook was poking a hole in the wall plaster. “And he’s definitely not smart enough for that.”  
“Exactly, thank you, Buster! Seriously, I just thought that this might cheer Buster up a little. He’s a kid, he’s going through a pretty tough time. And okay, maybe I did refer to you as ‘The Replacement’ and 'Drummer Boy’ and refused to use your real name, but that doesn’t mean anything.”  
“Actually, I feel like it means a lot."  
Michael muttered. “We’re not gonna rehearse today, are we?”  
“Nope,” Lindsay replied.  
Tony sighed. “Look, I might have overreacted a little. I’m sorry I blew up.”  
“No, you…” Gob took in a deep breath. “You were…right, kinda, in a way. You shouldn’t feel like you aren’t part of the band. You are. But, in a way, Buster still is too.” He gestured to his little brother, who had just begun to realise that his hook was stuck in the wall. I just thought coming here might cheer him up.”  
Lindsay chimed in. “That’s his way of apologising.”  
“Apology accepted,” Tony said, laughing a little.  
“And you are part of the band,” said Michael. “Even if you’re not technically family.” He checked his watch. “Yeah, we’re definitely not rehearsing today.”  
We should just get some frozen bananas or something,” said Gob. “I’m hungry.”  
“That’s the first sensible thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Tony agreed. Buster grunted. “I feel like we should help Buster out before we go.”  
The Bluths, for once, all agreed.

* * *

The siblings and Tony sat quietly on the pier, scoffing down what was probably way too many chocolate-covered frozen bananas. He could see why they were so profitable, they were so fucking addictive. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon. It really was beautiful. There were great views in New York, and as much as he missed the views at home, there was nothing quite like this. It was harder to see the sunset through the skyscrapers, you couldn’t hear the waves or smell the salty air, and there certainly wasn’t any warm breeze like the ones here. Maybe there were some good things about California.

“Lindsay?” Gob said, breaking the silence.  
“Mm?”  
“I’ve had a thought.”  
Lindsay almost choked on the piece of banana she was chewing. “You can do that?”  
“Hahaha, yes, I can. And it’s a good one.”  
“Is it about the band? Because honestly, I don’t really wanna think about the band right now.”  
“No, it’s about my funeral.”  
The others turned to stare at him.  
“Are you dying?” Buster exclaimed. “Why didn’t anyone tell me you were dying?”  
“I’m not dying, shut up. I’ve just been thinking about it. You know how people have songs at their funeral, right?”  
Lindsay nodded.  
“I think I know what I want.” Gob paused for dramatic effect. “I want you...to sing an acoustic version...of _Take On Me.”_  
There was silence as the band attempted to protest what exactly the fuck he had just said.  
“Like...the A-Ha song?” Tony asked.  
“Exactly like the A-Ha song.”  
“No!” said Lindsay. “What kind of a funeral song is that?”  
“It's a great one! None of you ever support me.”  
“I don’t even wanna _think_ about your funeral, Gob, that’s so _sad!”_  
“Not if you imagine me and Freddie Mercury and Franz Liszt all jamming to it together in heaven!”

“I actually have an idea about the band,” Tony said.  
He was expecting someone to say something, but they just looked at him. His siblings would no doubt start trying to guess what the idea was until one of the older ones screamed at them to shut up. “Well, I’ve been thinking about how we can get a leg-up on the competition.”  
Gob snickered. “Wow, Mikey. Looks like you’ve got some competition for Sally Stickwell.”  
Michael elbowed Gob in the side.  
“What? No, I didn’t mean _that,_ I meant like getting ahead of them.”  
Gob snickered again. “Heh, head.”  
Tony chose to ignore him. “Everyone always does covers, right? Including us. What if we wrote an original song instead?”  
“No way,” said Gob. “We’ve always done covers. Everyone at the Battle of the Bands does covers. Have you ever even written a song before?”  
“Well...no, but how hard can it be?”  
“Hard!”

Tony saw Michael and Lindsay having one of their silent twin conversations out of the corner of his eye. Buster wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, instead trying to eat a frozen banana off his hook. That seemed unsanitary.  
Lindsay turned back to the others. “We think it’s a great idea.”  
“We think you two should write it together,” Michael added.  
“What? No, I-why not you guys? Lindsay’s the singer! Should the guy with-sh-should the-the-sh-shou-sh-”  
“Come on, Gob. You’re studying music, you’re the obvious choice. And it was Tony’s idea to write the song in the first place.”  
Fuck. She was right. If anyone was the first choice to write and arrange an original song, it was Gob. _Fuck, _why hadn’t he thought of that?__  
He sighed. “Okay, fine. We can work together, right, Gob?”  
“Hmph,” Gob said, sticking yet another banana in his mouth. 

___Michael checked his watch for the umpteenth time that evening. “Oh, I gotta go.”_  
“Where are you going?” Gob asked around the banana in his mouth.  
“Uhh, just this after school...study...thing,” Michael said, already walking away. “See ya, good luck with the writing.”  
Once Michael was out of earshot, Tony asked: “Is he acting weird or is it just me?”  
“No, you’re right,” Lindsay said. “Something’s going on with him.”  
“Guys, my hook’s stuck!” 

__Tony sighed. How the hell had he ended up in the middle of such a weird family?_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from Diana by Paul Anka (get it cause jason bateman is married to paul anka's daughter) (i think i'm a lot funnier than i actually am)  
> there are at least two references to two different tv shows and if you get them i love ou  
> inspiration and love given to me by my friends ily guys  
> thank you all for reading and commenting i really appreciate it xx

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!!  
> shout out to the discord for coming up with this idea and always being immensely supportive of everyone's fics. i love you guys xx


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